


symphonies in my head

by weatheredlaw



Series: radio edit [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Epistolary, F/M, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But that's love, he figures. Or at the very least, the start of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	symphonies in my head

**Author's Note:**

> this is most definitely part of the "radio edit" series, but it's set before both of the first three and can kind of be read as a stand-alone if you'd like. it took a different turn part-way through, largely because imagining caboose in an AU is always an interesting process, and i wanted to explore the trauma he clearly experiences in the actual series and talk about real-life issues here. it's in the tags, but there's a panic attack in this fic, as well as some references to suicide and dissociation.

 

 

 

Caboose gets paid every Friday. He remembers the option back when he first got the job at the courthouse, knowing he could choose the pay period and accept the consequences for it or something like that -- the woman who trained him had been very scary, he remembers that. She used words like "consequence" and "punishment" and "tried for treason", which Church told him was not something that could happen to him, like, ever, and that she was just trying to freak him out. But the point is Caboose gets paid every Friday, mostly because he knows if it was every _other_ Friday, he would absolutely and completely forget about it. And if he forgot, he'd lose it. And if he loses it, even just for a little bit, he loses the day. 

So every Friday, he goes to the bank at exactly the same time, stands in the same line, and has the same teller. 

Her name is Sheila.

"Afternoon, Mr. Caboose."

"Good afternoon, Sheila. How are you?"

Sheila smiles, "Better, now. I just had the customer from _hell._ "

Caboose glances at the man walking out the door and frowns. "That guy?" Sheila nods. "If he wasn't nice to you, you should say something." Caboose doesn't think anyone should be mean to Sheila because Sheila is probably the nicest girl he's ever met. Church tells him a lot that there are no nice girls, but he's been dating Tex since forever, so he probably just hasn't met one yet. But Caboose has. And she's right here.

"Easier said than done," she says quietly. Caboose nods, because he understands -- he's not allowed to get angry at his job, either. He slides his check and debit card under the window and Sheila takes it without asking what he needs. They have a system, and Sheila seems to understand that Caboose needs this habitual practice -- take the check, deposit the check, smile, enjoy the day. "Okay, you're all set, Mr. Caboose."

Caboose frowns. "You're allowed to call me Caboose," he says. "All my friends do."

"That's your last name."

"Mmhm. We do that."

"I don't know...your first name's Michael, right?" Caboose nods. "Can...can I call you that? Instead?"

"Oh. Sure! Sure, that's just fine. It's a good name, I think. I mean, my mom liked it." 

Sheila laughs. "Sounds good. I'll see you next week then, Michael."

"See you next week, Sheila." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Dude, you do not have to go to the bank today." 

"Yes," Caboose says, "I do."

"Come _on_ , we're gonna be late."

"If I don't go, then I won't remember. And if I don't remember, then I don't have money. If I don't have money--"

"Tucker, man. Just let him go." Church pulls his car into the bank parking lot and shakes his head. "He'll freak out if he doesn't, okay? It's just gotta be this way." 

Tucker hasn't known Caboose for very long -- six months compared to Church's six years -- and Caboose sometimes thinks he doesn't like Tucker that much, but he'll be patient. For Church, at least, since they seem to be friends now. And because Tucker works at the courthouse, too, and eats lunch with him, and will sometimes buy him an orange soda, if he's in a good mood. Today doesn't seem to be one of those days, but Caboose doesn't let it bother him. They're going to a dinner thing or something that Tex's mother invited them to, and getting drinks after. Caboose is more excited for the beers than the dinner, but Tex is nice to him and it matters to Church, so he's wearing a tie. 

"Someone looks nice today." Sheila's at her usual window, with her usual smile. "Oh, you brought people." Caboose turns and sees Church staring at his feet because he's bad at people. Tucker is absolutely checking her out, but he does that to basically everyone.

"We have a thing," Caboose says sagely. Sheila nods, because she always understands him. It's what he likes about her best, that he doesn't have to slow things down or be someone else to be understood. She can just get it, right away. It's why he kind of probably will eventually like Tucker, but just not yet. "Were people nicer today?"

"It's the bank on a Friday," she says. "So no." She takes his check and card like she always does. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"We'll be downtown later. There will be beer, probably." 

"I'm gonna be downtown later, too." She hands him his card and receipt. "Maybe I'll see you?"

"I would like that a lot."

"So would I." She smiles at him in a way that makes him stop and smile back, bigger than usual, watching her carefully. There's something about her, and the way she talks, like she doesn't think he's an idiot or slow or dumb or anything else people say about him, just because they don't know him. What Caboose realizes, quite suddenly, is that Sheila respects him. _Likes_ him, even. And he's suddenly feeling very flustered, very red, and very silly for staring. 

"I have to go." 

"Okay." She seems a little sadder, at the prospect, but maybe he's just projecting. "But I'll see you tonight?" She grabs a pen and scribbles down a number on the back of his receipt. "Uh, here. This is my number. Text me where you'll be?"

"Yes. Yes, absolutely."

"Okay. Bye, Michael."

"Bye, Sheila."

 

 

 

Tucker is freaking out.

"I'm freaking out."

"Dude, I told you, Caboose gets a lot of ass."

Caboose frowns. "I do not get _ass_. I hate when you say that. It's very rude."

"Okay, _fine._ Caboose was a total lady's man when we lived together. He's just toned it down because he isn't twenty-one anymore. _Some_ of us could learn a thing or two." He glances at Tucker, who definitely isn't paying attention.

"I can't believe the hot bank teller gave you her number."

"She has a name," Caboose says hotly, getting flustered for different reasons all over again. He's tucked the number into his wallet, right next to his driver's license which is an important thing, like Sheila's number. "You are not allowed to talk to her," he adds quickly.

"Dude, I would never _ever_ cockblock you."

Church and Caboose say at the same time: "Yes you would," and Tucker scowls.

"Dicks."

 

 

 

Tex's thing turns out to be not as bad as Caboose thought it would be. Her parents are very rich and Tex -- "Allison, sweetheart, that nickname is _atrocious_ ," is something Tucker will be saying all night -- is an only child. This is quite the opposite of Caboose, whose parents had a lot of kids and not a lot of money. They eat fancy appetizers and there's salmon for dinner, which Caboose enjoys, catered by a group of guys wearing a lot of red. 

After dinner, Church ushers everyone into his car -- Tex gets shotgun and Tucker whines about it -- and then complains he'll have to be their DD. 

"Make Caboose the DD," Tucker says, his voice somehow getting _more annoying_ , which Caboose didn't think was possible.

" _Caboose_ is gonna meet up with Sheila. Unlike some people I know, I am not a dick."

Tex turns around in her seat and grins at Caboose. "Who's Sheila?"

"She works at the bank. She's very nice."

"She calls him _Michael_ ," Church says, nudging Tex's knee with his hand. 

Tex nods. " _Aw_. All the best girls called him that."

"The best girls called him by his first name?" Tucker laughs. "Why don't we do that anyway?" Tex shrugs. "Well I hope it goes well for you, Caboose. I'll just be sitting at the bar, being a lonely dickhead with no one to go home with."

"I thought that was your Halloween costume last year," Church says, and gets a pair of knees in the back of his seat as his reward. "Worth it."

 

 

 

 **caboose:** we are at mahoneys do you know where that is?  
 **sheila:** i'm at elliot's, so yes!  
 **caboose:** great! where should i meet you?  
 **sheila:** stay there, i'll come to you

 

 

 

Sheila only drinks screwdrivers, which Caboose thinks is pretty cute. She says, "I don't really like beer," and Caboose nods, but doesn't really understand because _beer_. He's just grateful her favorite drink isn't tequila shots, because he doesn't have that much money. 

"Do you like your job?" he asks, which is probably a boring question, but it's the only thing he knows about her, so he figures he'll start there. 

"No," she says simply. "Actually. Actually Friday is my favorite day."

"Oh. Because of the weekend?"

"Because I get to see you." She's at least a head shorter than him, probably more, but for some reason, what she says makes Caboose feel small -- really small. "Sorry. That was stupid."

"No it wasn't. It was nice." Caboose smiles and reaches out to take her hand. It shakes, just a little, but that might be his own. "I like Fridays a lot, too. But that's probably because I like you so much." Sheila nods, squeezing his hand. He feels kind of silly, sitting in the middle of this bar, holding hands with a girl he only sees once a week and is suddenly having very complicated feelings for. 

But that's love, he figures. Or at the very least, the start of it.

He's broken out of this weird contemplation by a tap on the shoulder from Church. "Hey, Tucker's pretty trashed, I need to get him out of here. You wanna get going? I can give you a ride, too," he adds. Sheila shakes her head.

"No, I'm here with friends."

Church nods. "We'll be outside." 

Caboose turns back to Sheila, missing the warmth of her hand already. She traces the sweat on her glass, glancing up at him. "Can I see you again? Before Friday?"

"Yes," he says simply, because he can't really think of anything better than that.

"Okay. Okay good. I just..." She stands abruptly and Caboose stands with her, jolting the table and knocking over his empty bottle. He grabs at it and clutches it in both hands, looking absolutely ridiculous in the process -- but it makes her laugh, and he likes doing that. "This was fun."

"Sorry it was so short."

"It's okay. Next time, maybe you can pick me up."

Caboose nods, the fact that he doesn't have a car not really registering at that moment. Mostly because she's stepping closer and mostly because she's kissing him, her hands covering his own, the beer bottle still clutched uselessly between them. Caboose sets it on the table, puts his hands on her elbows, suddenly aware of just how small she is, pressed against his chest.

When she pulls back, he realizes she's been on her toes the whole time. And that's pretty adorable.

"I'll see you, then."

"You will."

 

 

 

He and Tucker both crash at Church's place. Caboose doesn't feel like arguing about the couch, so he just takes a blanket and curls up in the recliner. There's still orange juice on his lips, he thinks, but he could be imagining that. Tucker is muttering in his sleep, but it's white noise mixed in with the AC, and the whole night pushes Caboose over the edge, right into sleep. 

When he wakes up, he's disoriented and tight, muscles screaming from being stuck in the tiny chair all night. Tex is making coffee, but he doesn't know why Tex is in his apartment, or why his apartment looks like Church's apartment. Caboose tips out of the chair and lands on the floor, the air catching in his chest and he can feel it all rushing in, his heart hammering in his chest, trying to claw its way out.

"Caboose?" Tex crosses the room and puts her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her. "Caboose, it's okay. You're in my apartment, Church brought you here. You're not at home. You're somewhere else, but you're safe." He nods, but the vise on his chest isn't getting any looser, and the idea of flinging himself off the balcony seems liberating and terrifying all at once. Tucker sits up with a jolt and starts talking, and that doesn't help at all, just more noise more noise more noise more noise -- 

He covers his ears with his hands and closes his eyes. "Caboose, you need to _breathe._ " 

"Is he okay?"

"Tucker, get Church."

"Yeah. Yeah, alright." Tucker trips getting off the couch, sounding confused and stressed. Caboose knows the feeling.

Church comes into the living room pulling a shirt over his head. He takes a knee in front of Caboose, pulling Tex's hands away. "He's okay. Aren't you, Caboose? You're okay." _No,_ Caboose thinks. _I am not okay. I am not okay._ "Yes you are. Remember the way we learned to breathe? Remember that?" Caboose nods. "Think about it. Don't let it get away. It's here and here." Church taps his chest, then his temple. 

_5 2 5_

_5 2 5_

Caboose opens his mouth and breathes, counts to five and feels his stomach expand. Holds for two seconds. Exhales for five. Breathes as normally as he can. Does it all again. The room spins a little slower.

It takes an hour to bring him down, and when he's there, he's exhausted, feeling sick and miserable. "Come on." Tex helps him up. "On the couch, Caboose."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't. You promised you wouldn't say that."

Tucker pulls back the blanket. "Is he okay?"

"Caboose, Tucker wants to know if you're okay. Are you okay?" He nods. "Alright, then. Get some rest."

 

 

 

Caboose doesn't remember his first panic attack. Probably when he was a kid, because these things would happen and no one could explain it. They didn't go to the doctor much, didn't really have insurance. His mom used to put his head in her lap and hold him until it went away, but it didn't fix it in the long term. It went on like that for so long, he thought this was just the way it was. He didn't get help until he moved out, moved in with Church. Church took one look at him one morning, holding his head in the kitchen floor, too winded to heave, too tired to stand -- he got him in touch with someone.

Church was the one who helped him, learned the breathing exercises with him. Even when he had finals, papers, projects, Tex -- he counted and breathed, too. 

Like it was happening to them both.

 

 

 

 **sheila:** i don't work sunday, you want to get brunch?  
 **sheila:** i mean the bank is closed so of course i don't work

 

 

 

Caboose spends most of Saturday on Church's couch, sleeping or watching Discovery Channel with Tex. Church got hired two years ago at a charter school to teach chemistry, so he spends most of the day sitting between them, both their legs in his lap while he grades papers. "You guys, I need to stand." Caboose makes a noise and Tex echoes him. "You know, only one of you has a good excuse to be completely useless." He starts marking on Tex's bare leg with a pen and she swears, swiping some of his papers when he stands. " _Don't write anything on them, I swear to God!_ " he shouts as he heads into the bathroom.

When he's gone, Tex nudges Caboose with a highlighter and asks him if he wants pizza for lunch. He nods. Words are hard. Moving is hard. He makes grabby hands for his phone on the coffee table when he sees it light up and she hands it to him. "Sausage, pepper, and onions?" He nods and she kisses his forehead. "You got it." 

As much as he wants to be able to tell Sheila he can do brunch, he knows he won't be able to. It's the worst attack he's had in a year, and he'll be lucky to make it to work on Monday. 

**caboose:** i can't sunday  
 **sheila:** that's okay, i know it's not the best date-day  
 **caboose:** it's not a bad date-day i just can't do it

He hates the way that sounds, like he doesn't have time for her, like what he said to her the night before doesn't matter.

 **caboose:** would you like to get dinner this week?  
 **sheila:** yes, absolutely

"What're you smiling about?" Church comes in, arms folded over his chest. Caboose shows him the phone. "You got it bad, huh?"

"She's very nice," he manages.

"Yeah. Yeah, you've mentioned that." Church puts a hand on his head, setting the phone on the coffee table. "You deserve someone like her, you know that right?"

Caboose doesn't answer and Church knows when to leave it alone. He sees his phone light up with another message, and he could answer it, whoever it is, but there isn't enough energy to do that. 

He knows if he gets dinner with Sheila, it's going to lead to more dinners, to more things, to truths and letting her know who he is. And he's ready for that. 

After pizza. He'll be ready for that after pizza.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, background caboose/sheila is perfect i love it and fleshing it out here was fun. it's a weird, goofy little thing in the show, but it's given me a lot of good stuff


End file.
